Puppies
by I Will Disappear
Summary: Just clustering the Puppies Series together.
1. Wolf Games

A/N: Not an update! Just fixed up my mistakes. Thank you to .Crown for saying what I need to hear. To both TheSilentMaid and FiliusLuporum, if I add a sequel it will be posted separately and not as a second chapter, because, generally, that confuses me a lot.

/||||| Wolf Game |||||\\

It's running wild in his chest, like some monster laying in wait for you to come along.

Some monster, some wolf; hiding and sneaking.

You're easy prey, easy kill.

You're so easy.

He will wait for you, wait for eternity I'm sure. You just stand there watching but you should be doing, should be going.

It's a great big game of chase and you're losing, you both are; idiots who sit and watch but never chase.

He will stand there watching and you will lay there ignorant, or so you say, like you don't know he is at your window, in your room, on your bed while you sleep.

You will watch from faraway, like he will wait so very near.

He won't say a word and neither will you; you will both be okay with fast words and sharps remarks and getting slammed into walls.

You both enjoy it, the heady feel of being dominated and submitting, both get off on it, just never together.

Lydia will tell you it's a sad waste and you both will ignore her while the others look at her oddly.

Sad waste or not he won't have you, he says he's dangerous, says you're only human, says its for the best without actually saying it.

So you don't bring it up, just let it linger in the air, let the tension build and thicken.

You will not ever let it settle, you will pursue it and wait and watch.

You will play games like puppies do, biting tails and showing teeth before leaping away.

You may not be able to have him, but he won't have you either and that brings some semblance of peace to you; you suppose that maybe it is the thought that you will both be alone forever.

Maybe if you were not so different, you think if you had be accepting of Peter's bite, if you ask him for it, if you could be together, but you push that thought back.

You hide behind your Adderall and lacrosse and school and your dad and homework.

You hide behind anything that you can find, because then you wouldn't have to see him, watch him watch you, like he wants you.

So much easier to pretend that he doesn't want you, that it is all just some sick teenage fantasy.

Some sick fantasy to have him over you, maybe to protect you; you think it has more to do with the 'forever' thing that wolves have going on rather than the other things.

So you sleep sound at night once you know that he is there, that he is lurking just outside your window.

You sleep better when you know that you can turn and still smell him on your sheets and pillow.

Can feel happy when you pull on a shirt that he has stretched out.

You will go on with this stupid game that you both have created and play like animals.

Like animals that have been hurt.

Wounded and tired, all sharp teeth and anger.

You gave up the game of pups some time ago, you're not sure when exactly.

He will try to push you away, try to stop you from playing like all bullies do.

He will warn you that wolves have teeth and claws.

That wolves are smart and decisive.

That wolves know how to make a kill painful or quick.

He will tell you anything he can, because wolves are dangerous.

You know better though, you know something he doesn't.

You know how to play that game with the best of them.

You can play wolf too.


	2. To Be Buried In His Pelt

A/N: to FiliusLuporum who asked so kindly. It's really angsty, might continue to work on this and see if it ends with a happily ever after or not.

/ |||| | To Be Buried In His Pelt | |||| \\\

/

It will be a blow to your chest, sharp and painful. Something you hope to never live through, but will inevitable have to push through.

He can crowd you into corners and up against anything he wants to really, and you will let him.

He does it to intimidate you, to frighten you, to push you away.

You just shiver, meet his eyes and shout until he tells you to shut up, or look away and arch into to him, neck bared to his flashing eyes.

You can intimidate him too.

He will back off and you will move forward and watch him move away.

One step forward, two steps back.

You like to play with him, you know he won't stop coming.

You try to time it right; really it's hit or miss with him, but sometimes it's a perfect hit.

He'll climb through your window and stop short when he finds you.

Sometimes you're changing shirts, or slipping pants on over nothing but skin.

Sometimes, and you love these times the best, he steps half way in and watches as you move your hand up and down.

Watches as you moan his name and your breathe hitches, watches you relax into the sheets, then leaves.

You cry sometimes, when it becomes too much.

Scott and Allison are too much, Jackson and Lydia and Danny are too much.

You think that you will never be happy, because it is a fact.

You cry when you are faced with it, with him, with yourself.

Filled with loathing and fear; you wonder if this is what your father had to go through when your mom passed.

You hope that he stays away when you do cry.

Hope he never has to see you; that he won't have to see how deep the hurt runs, cuts, tears at you.

He has had enough loss to be numb and get by.

You feel like you can never be there, that you can never be enough, because he won't allow you to.

Maybe you can slide between your sheets with nothing on, let him slide in next to you. You hope he would still hold you close in your sleep. You hope he will kiss your shoulder and lick at your neck.

You hope he would love you like you ache for him to.

You wish you could press closer and hide with him, just want to hide beneath his scent and be happy.

You know your place though; you know that you are nothing without him, that you hold nothing of worth, that you are nothing of worth.

You think that maybe you make a horrifyingly beautiful sight when he slips through your window, knocking you from you wrenching fantasies.

You probably look a mess, all tear stained and crumpled on the bed, like someone cut your strings and let you fell.

Fell unprotected and soft flesh to sharp rock below.

He just stands there looking at you, watching as you watch him, and you are right.

He looks shocked, a flash of hurt on his face before it disappears and you know.

You turn into yourself, let the tears fall and let silent sobs wreck you.

He has left you again, to yourself, to be on your own, without him.

You are alone, the window left open in his hast.

You are on your own, left to your human ways, to be soft and easy flesh.

Tomorrow you will drag yourself up, beat yourself up.

Tomorrow there will be no sign of your sobbing.

Tomorrow you will pull on the pelt you have made yourself.

Tomorrow you will go on playing pretend.

Tomorrow you will be pack omega.

Tomorrow you will wear your pelt.

Tomorrow you will be left.

Again and again.

When you will be buried in the warmth of your pack, into his side like he actually wants you there.

Like you mean something to him, like he wants you to mean something, like he loves you.

Tomorrow you will be buried in your pack.

You think dimly, blacking out then in and out again, that if you die, you want to be wrapped in him.

You want to be buried in his pelt.


	3. Not Long At All

A/N: Wow so this came about really fast and I kind of hope it sticks to the writing style I started this whole Puppies verse with.

/ |||| | Not Long At All | |||| \\\

/

You take in a deep breath; this is what you have been waiting for, his scent to envelop you closed.

His heart beat a steady thump against your back, his breath hot and puffed against your neck.

You're warm, secure, awake, and stupidly happy.

You know it won't last, he will wake soon, and your heart beat will make sure of that.

You wish you could have an out of body experience, that you can watch within the safety of sleep and know it is true and not a dream. That your heart could keep the same steady beat in wakefulness as it did in sleep.

That it would wake him, your heart, hurt so much, he will stir and be gone in a flash.

You can breathe deep now though, can take in his warmth, snuggle down deeper in his arms.

You can turn and hold him or burrow into his chest; he will be awake soon anyways.

You wonder if you could get away with kissing him,

But you're too afraid to try.

Instead all you do is lay there taking in his scent and warmth, trying not to fall to pieces again, trying not to cry again.

You remember when you cried, how he stopped making eye contact, how he did not step foot in your room for a week, how he gave you more pull and push during the pack meeting.

You don't want him anywhere that isn't next to you.

You want him here in your bed every night where he belonged.

You don't want to be told to go away, that it has to stop, that you're not enough.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself.

You're going to fall off center if you keep this up, you need to stop.

STOP!

Deep breathe, in, out, an arm pulls you closer in sleep, the beginnings of wakefulness coming and going as they always did.

You close your eyes and breathe, move closer, and lay still before he leaves you behind.

Sometimes, not the best of times, you think that it may be better if you left, just disappeared with a promise from your dad not to look for you.

You reason that it could be done, so long as you're safe and email and call often you're sure your dad wouldn't be against moving out of town, state even.

You only have to wait a few more months before you can start to show interest in some vague major that only few colleges cater to.

You could be out of state, hell out of country if you could get a full ride scholarship.

Your dad would even be proud.

If it meant you could get out of this hell you're sure you could do it.

Could go be reckless, get too drunk, insist on driving yourself back too hard, drive too fast, and hit something and end it.

They would probably say how you were a 'trouble maker, but a good kid', how you 'would be missed', and 'how could ever happen to someone like you.'

You can imagine that even he will be able to move on to someone who he deserved, because you know that you don't deserve him, that he deserves better.

You can feel him moving now, can feel him pull you closer and let go.

Can feel him as he lingers, not quite sure if you're awake or asleep, the perks of dozing.

You lull as he stays behind you, still pressed to your back, still in your bed, under your covers, next to you.

No one else's.

You can feel him slip from your bed; can feel as you start to cry.

You said you wouldn't, and that makes you think of all the interviews that celebrities have, how they always say, 'I promised myself I wouldn't cry.'

How cliché.

You hear him stop; he's probably standing in the middle of your floor trying to get dressed.

He can smell your tears, fuck you don't want him to leave you for a week again.

You do the only thing you can; you sit up and pull the covers off.

He's standing there, eyes wide, his pants in one hand and shirt thrown over his shoulder.

You move out of bed and around him as you continue to cry.

You act like nothing's wrong, throw him a 'Bye' and your usual smile and head out into the hall and into the bathroom.

You turn the water to hot; you want to burn away the hurt and cold of him not next to you.

You take a few deep breaths and you finally stop with your crying.

Say a silent 'Man up.' to yourself and turn the water off, grab a towel and move back to your room.

He won't be there and there's a pack meeting tonight.

It looks like he won't be in your bed for another week, if not longer, who knows.

You don't, he won't say anything to do with werewolves to you, he doesn't want you to know, doesn't want you period, and so who knows, who fucking cares.

Just a few more months, not that long at all.


	4. You Just Never Knew

A/N: so another of the Puppies series, and yeah sure I can condense these.

/ |||| | You Just Never Knew | |||| \\\

/

You take in the air around you, this is your home, your room, and it's all packed away in boxes and bags.

The things you aren't taking with you are up in the attic, there's a truck outside with everything you needed in it.

So now you just stand in the middle of a room that was yours, can still be yours.

Maybe it was a bit of his too, but that doesn't matter, not right now.

Your plan works like perfection, funny 'cause usually you have horrible plans, yeah they work but still.

So this is your goodbye, to your father, your room, your home, to him.

The pack should be half way to the meeting with other wolves, you couldn't come along.

Wolves are too dangerous.

So you packed and set about making the beginnings of your life while he leaves you behind.

You scurry around yourself looking at all the self doubt and self loathing you packed away sitting in your chest.

You can unpack when you reach your goal, once you're away.

You made sure to ship everything out during the week.

No one knew, everything just disappeared a little at a time.

Fading into the background, Scott had even helped under the pretense of removing unnecessary clutter, with your excuse of growing up and moving on.

Derek had been in your bed the other night, your room staged to look like you were still living there.

It was his first night back into your bed; he spent a month out of it.

He was leaving you behind even now, but that's okay, you're used to it now.

You had sat down, or been sat down with your father.

Had a talk about your future, your education, your happiness.

It was your chance, and you took it.

Chattering on about Biochemical Engineering and all the great colleges and the awesome full ride you got, the one you spent weeks typing a paper for.

You sent out the letters with your dad, and you opened your letters together too.

It would seem that Penn State would be adding on a great member to their population.

It was a blessing; after all it was far enough.

So now you stand and look at the shell you are leaving behind, your bed made; your dresser is in your dad's room, extra space for him.

You know it will be back in here soon after you leave.

Pulling yourself from it, you move out into the hall and down stairs, to your dad who sits looking at a picture of your mom.

You wonder again if it was like watching her leave all over again, you leaving.

He is so proud of you, like you knew he would be.

He smiles now and you're both in the truck and driving to the airport.

Promises of phone calls once you land, of weekly phone calls and bi-weekly emails, and monthly letter all pushed into quick words and tight hugs.

You can wait for eternity, you can spend your whole like waiting; you were born waiting, just for him.

You think as you wish he was there with you and your dad.

And then its last goodbyes and waiting to file onto the plane and to Pennsylvania .

Its restless sleep, and air space, and eating snacks and more sleep and finally landing in your new home.

Your room mate is waiting, a sign with your name on it in her curvy writing and a smile on her face.

This could be okay, and you'll wait.

Wait for eternity.

Wait for just him.

You can do the running just as well though.

You can leave too.

You can make him cry too.

You can grow numb too.

All you have to do is try.

But its okay, you can be just as tough.

You can hurt just as much.

You'll pull and push and strive to be better.

To grow numb.

You know how to leave too.

You just never knew.


	5. Only The Brave Can Accept It

A/N: okay so I wrote like three different versions, all really different from the other but with the same end result, that being stiles decision. And so now you know my excuse for taking so long. I should be able to wrap this all up in about two to three, maybe four, more chapters. If you hadn't noticed before, it is unbeta-ed, just like everything else I write. For shame! Yes, yes, I know, but I'm lazy.

/ |||| | Only The Brave Can Accept It | |||| \\\

/music to this was kissing air, the sweat descends, knock you out, knocked up (lykki ly), the water, and blood, milk, and sky.

/

There are all types of phone calls.

You know this fact very well; why, this very moment the phone was ringing.

Ring, ring, ringing in the other room somewhere.

Just keep fucking ringing, but you can't bother to get up off the fucking cold, kissing bathroom tiles to answer it.

A little too late in the early twist of light in the morning to want to be in contact with anyone, to lost to be able to pretend that everything is going to be okay.

You want the ringing to stop; you can hear all of them ringing, the kitchen phone, the bedroom phone, the living room phone, even your traitorous cell phone.

You want to collapse on your side, maybe crawl under the sink or into the tub; you think you will end up clutching at the toilet instead, heaving into it if the ringing didn't stop.

You won't every take their calls, can't take it if they call crying and pleading all 'we want you home where you belong', or 'we miss you so much.' But worse is you don't ever want to hear him say 'you left me.' because it wasn't fair and he left first.

You topple to the side and squirm out into the hall.

Your room mate is out somewhere having a life, having fun, having everything she can; you are stuck with the ringing, all the ringing calling out your name, over and over and over again.

You hate it when it rings like that the most.

You try to stand.

It takes a few too many tries before you manage and the phone has stopped, it's peaceful and telling, you sigh.

The ringing starts again as you were just about to let yourself fall back to the ground, drowned in your own vomit by afternoon, hopefully late morning.

It's a fast, mad stumble vertigo to the phone, hunting it in your tunnel-esk vision.

You can take calls and messages with all the others.

Little pink hearts or pale yellow flowers sticky noted to the phone for her when she comes back.

You can take messages even when you're drunk off your ass, learned to take surprisingly good messages and notes, and letters, and books, all when you're drunk and unafraid of everything.

It's a quick almost broken nose to the phone stand and a slurred greeting.

No one beside your dad calls for you, so you don't care if one of her friends hears your sloppy speech.

All of her friends probably thought you were an alcoholic, they were probably right.

You giggle into the silence on the line with your thought; nerd by day, drunk by night.

'You need to come back'

It's a voice you dread, the voice that haunts your dreams and pulls you deeper into your fantasies and nightmares; that cloying voice rumbling like thunder and want.

'We need you here on Monday.'

There's long pauses for you to speak, like he wants to hear your voice as much as you did, didn't, want to hear his.

'A new pack is coming by; we need to meet them whole.'

And you lie down on the floor, slide down like a sock monkey thrown to a wall, lay limp and vulnerable to the inconsiderate hands of a child.

'You need to be here, they're coming by on Tuesday.'

You breathe as much as your clogged throat will allow, as much as the tears can let you, you lay still.

You wish he could talk to you all the time, wish he would talk you to sleep, but if wishes were horses, then you could be in love and not hurt as much as you do.

'You need to be here.'

You can hear his breath, can hear his panting as you breathe into the phone and stare into the hall at the door.

The phone lying in your hand as you cry.

'You need to be here, remember.'

And you lay the phone on the ground and turn away from him, curl into yourself like your good at.

Hid from everything that you want because you know you can't have it.

You stare at your door now; start to crawl toward it as you sob, only now hearing your coked sobs, your painful whines and dying near screams that rip from your throat.

You just want somewhere safe, somewhere you can feel okay, but your room is to dark.

All you can do is pull blankets from your bed and crawl under it, where it can squeeze you and keep you warm; where no one will look, where no one could find you.

You can lay your head down; can be washed away in your sea of salty tears and crashing sobs and cries.

You can squeeze your eyes closed tight and pretend that you don't see claws and teeth razor sharp and vicious waiting to tear into you more than he already has.

Pretend you can't see them pull from the shadows trying to scent you out and eat your heart.

When you wake she will be home laying on the floor looking at you and trying to figure out what is wrong.

She can probably smell the vodka and whiskey on you, not a nice mix; she probably found the bottles too.

She's sweet, you think why you could not have meet someone like her; you could have easily fallen in love with someone like her.

You take a shuddering breath and drag what remains of yourself out from your hiding place and book a ticket back home; you could finally get your jeep over when you drove it back.

You try to be someone that you used to be in high school as she makes you breakfast.

Try to cover your pain as you see your mess all cleaned away, the phone hung on its stand.

You try to pull the wool over your eyes, and over hers too; it doesn't work, the wool worn to thinly over your course of living in the apartment, of being able to walk around with a broken heart and skin peeled open and back for her to see.

You pull yourself out of your plastic case and sit beside her; she strokes your hair and back, tries to help you lick your freshly opened wounds.

You walk away and to your plane with your tail between your legs; you'll be back soon, after all hell waits for everyone, you just have to look back to be able to see it.

Only the brave can accept it.


	6. You Have Become A Man

A/N:So one or two more before it all wraps up. Yay! I have mid-terms to study for but spring break is close, so expect this and maybe some other series to be finished, or progressed way further, within two weeks or so. To .Crown. I write out my stories and then, if a particular line stands out o me I use it as the title, I'm to lazy to try to incorporate my title into the story.

/ |||| | You Have Become A Man | |||| \\\

/Shooting Star- Bag Raiders

/

It's a devastating feeling, coming back home, being able to lounge around in your old room, to curl up in your old comforter and sheets. Your posters still on your walls; you had been right, walking into the house using your spare key, your dad had moved everything back into your room.

You can take deeps breathes and let the warm sun light in through your window, pretend that it is just like old times.

Can worry about Chem homework, two years overdue, can think about what you're going to make for dinner; you think about how warm it will be, how hot it will become like the other nights so long ago.

Only becoming so hot when he came crawling in through your window and stripped, made his way between your sheets and pulled you close.

It's tearing at your heart to remember when you used to think that it didn't matter if he only wanted that closeness at night and only alone.

Can remember thinking it was all you need, that you would have him anyway you could.

You used to be so naïve.

Now you're just bitter.

You can lay on your bed, eye lids closed and glowing peach and red from underneath with light.

You can pretend that it is a simpler time.

You can pretend you young again.

You can pretend that you are okay again.

You can pretend that you didn't run; that you're still running.

You can pretend that you won't get hurt.

Pretend that you are just the omega, nothing else; nothing important.

You can whoever you were before; before your world started to crumble and rip.

You can lay on your bed and play pretend like you used to, like running in wolf skin can hide what you are; it can only hide your scent, playing a wolf game.

You can pretend that you would be okay if you could just lay closer to him, if you bury yourself in him and his pelt.

You can pretend that you are just laying in wait, that it's not long at all before you can turn the table around on him.

Can pretend that you never knew you could leave, like you just never knew you could do it; like you didn't know how much it would hurt.

You can pretend that when you meet them all again that it won't be hell; to be so close and unable to have, but your brave and only the brave can accept it; their fate.

You lay still on your bed breathing in the hurt and longing, the love and painful sobs that litter your old rooms with their phantom being.

You can go on thinking about how you need to run more and live more; stop thinking about the whiskey in your dads closet, it won't do you any good, won't do your father any good to find you like that.

You will get, will made dinner when the light outside has started to dim and ease over the mountain and tree line.

You can surprise your dad with yourself; how you have grown, how you have changed.

You can think, idly, that Lidia would probably like you bitter ; you can't help but think that it would, in all actuality, make her cry, sob and clench and scream.

You wonder if maybe you should just lie in until Tuesday instead of heading over on Monday; maybe that bit of rebellion will show that you haven't changed that much; could ease them in just like the sun eased on down and out.

You stay awake until your dad passes through the door, gun out and ready; stay as he rushes you into a hug, pulls you close.

You eat and drink and talk until you are both yawning but that's okay; you missed him so much, can see yourself in him like you weren't able to before.

You both fall to sleep sometime around one; he will have Monday off so it fits in perfect; you can use him as an excuse, just like old times.

You can pretend that you don't hurt at the café when you spot Allison and her father, when you hear them talking, hear her laugh and tell him about Danny and Lydia and Jackson running around skinny dipping; your dad doesn't notice and gives no indication that he knows why you stir them out of the café once your order is in.

You can pretend that it doesn't hurt to be apart from everyone; hurt to be out of your pack, Derek's pack.

You know you aren't really, but that was the point, to separate yourself from him and that included them.

There would be no joint custody of the pups, not dividing; no they would all stay with papa wolf where they would be safe and protected.

Where Allison didn't have to worry about explaining her and Scott's, where Jackson didn't have to explain about how he needed Lydia and Danny, how he could function without the two of them; where they didn't have to explain why they were with their den mother instead of their alpha.

You wouldn't pull the pack apart because you know he needs them; probably needs you too, because he is too alone, too hurt, too close to breaking.

Of course no one knows this but you; always too observant then you should be, to hyper aware of these things, of him.

You would sweep them off their feet and spirit them away to Pennsylvania, it just wouldn't be fair; you know that they would be forced to choose sides, that both parties would be hurt because of who wanted to stay and who wanted to go.

So you made the choice for them, left without a good bye and without looking back.

You became someone you had seen for most of your life; became someone you had always wanted to fix.

You became that man who wandered around his home because his wife was gone and couldn't stop the reflex of turning to speak to her.

You became a ghost, bitter and love wise, world wise to pain and grief; to how it tears and peels you to the muscle, cuts to the bone and boils you alive.

You became who you had always wanted to be.

Just as tired and worn; just as easy to pick a bottle up for its respite from the world.

Just as loyal and weary, just as mysterious; locking away the hurt and everything else with it.

You became the man you had always wished to be; less clumsy, slower in pace, steady voice and easy stride, confident.

You have became a man; a simple, adult, mundane human.

You became your dad.


	7. Completely Whole

A/N:maybe, maybe not. Who knows at this moment. So this is a yes. One more chapter and than done! Also, to DevilishBea, funniest review, like, ever.

/ |||| | Completely Whole | |||| \\\

/

Your jeep grumbles and jumps through and across the lane and dirt road up to a house that was once just a burnt husk.

The smell of ash still lingering even after the remodeling, not as surprising as you thought it would be.

You had left long before they had started on the outside; you had only been there to help and witness the new kitchen and stairs; nothing more.

Now the house is what it used to be not a perfect replica but you could see how close he had kept it compared to the photos that you had snuck away with.

You wonder if anyone is inside, there are a few cars out front, Jacksons and Allison, the Camaro beside the house; you can see the two new cars as well.

You think that maybe stopping for groceries was the smart thing to do and pat yourself on your back before parking and grabbing up bags.

It's as you're making your way to the porch that the door slams open and your thoughts are answered; it would seem that someone was home.

Home; you scuff like the pain in your heart hadn't hitched up into your throat, after all it is home.

The door is wide open and there are two someone's standing in the door way; by the looks of it probably sisters, both red haired and green eyed, the smaller of the two snarled and glared.

You stop to take them in, not as pretty as Lydia or Allison, the smaller obviously the younger, probably pretty low in the ranks too if the over compensating was to go by.

You chuckle a bit before you keep moving, up the stairs and in front of them as they crowed the door now both tight faced and glaring.

You smile at them, probably like your dad smiles, that sort of smile you give to a child as they try to boss you around; they don't seem to like it, but there is the sound of a few pair of feet running and panting breath from inside.

You wait as the two girls are pushed and shoved to the side and out of the way before you are being crushed and the bags are being taken inside and someone is rubbing and someone else is petting and hugging and you're ushered inside and into the living room.

The two girls follow at the packs heels; Danny is just coming in from the kitchen with Scott and Lydia and Allison and Jackson at trying to crawl over you.

It's the beginning of a puppy pile that you haven't experienced in so long that you feel whole again.

That missing part of you is starting to fill, starting to close as they crowed you; as they try to get as much of you as possible before you leave them again.

The girls are standing there, not knowing what to do; the younger one looks pissed, is about to say something before Lydia and the others are telling you that Derek went with the members of the other pack to the lake and would be back soon.

You get moved to the couch before they tell you everything about school; classes they are taking, the friends they study with, how close graduations were, how long they sleep, how much they miss you, how hard exams are.

They all try to cuddle close, try to tell you all their hurts; the stress and anxiety.

The girls have settled into seats and the pile stay intact until the door is opened and he walks in, the other members of the new pack trailing behind him stop at the sight.

The pile is quiet for the first time in what you think is probably twenty minutes and then the red head finally has space to speak.

'Didn't know you kept humans, I thought you said you didn't have an omega.'

You presume that it is their alpha that snaps out a quick "Jessica!" but you smile at her; that same smile that pisses her off.

You look on as she gets up, her shorts and tank top snug, and walks up to Derek; she ignores her alpha, not a good sign.

She's close to him but not touching, tries to get closer but you know that he will glare at her, her only warning as her alpha speaks to low for you to hear.

You only smile more as she tries to speak to him as low as her alpha is trying to speak to her.

You move the others off of you and get yourself up; straighten your shirt, still flannel, and your jeans before you make your way over to the other pack.

With an out stretched hand and a quiet "don't worry about it." You introduce yourself to their alpha.

'Genim Stilinski, go ahead and call me Stiles though, everyone does.'

And then one of them catches your eye.

He's not as tall, not as menacing and not as jaded, he reminds you of the photos of Derek, probably only seventeen; he's breath taking to see, to be able to see the possibility to be the person that you now love.

Then there is a bruising grip on your arm and you are forced to confront him, you expect to be dragged to another room to be talked to sternly like you're five, or ignored.

You are pulled into his arms and carried away; it's a moment before you realize you're in the kitchen and seated on the counter.

His face is pressed to your neck as he pulls your legs open and steps into the space he has created; steps further into you, holds you close and tight.

He works his lips at your neck and you pull him closer; you know he needs this, know that he will deny himself once more in a moment, once the day has ended.

But now you follow around your pack and make them their meals and play tag.

You help to explain funny stories and become embarrassed by them as they reassure the new pack that you held the most knowledge about werewolves in the pack only next to Derek

You hold his hand and sit in his lap and drink and eat from his cup and plate all night.

You rest in his arms and his skin and his heat like you once did in your youth not so long ago.

You pull at his clothes and he at yours and then you're tumbling down into sheets and pillows and nights cool air.

For once you feel completely whole.


	8. All Your Warmth Baby

A/N: so here is the last installment, I tried to make it long as an apology, and you can blame school for it taking so long, but almost done! One more week and I'm free.

/ |||| All Your Warmth Baby; It Comes From a Bottle |||| \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

You have been covered in his scent for days, a week or so and your drenched in it. He has surrounded you; his body warm wrapped round you at night, hot as he slide down your body, kissed you hard and moved inside you smooth and just right.

He had you, claimed you and everyone heard; you think that maybe you should feel a bit more embarrassed, but you're past that stage in life, your past allot of them; now you content to lay in his bed.

Everyone lay sleeping except you, the visiting pack gone last night, with clapping shoulders and promises to update if threats find their way to either group.

You think that everything is better now, he could have pushed you aside, claimed that he would take you until you were done with school, but he hadn't; no he took you to his bed like there was no other way, like he would die if he didn't.

So you went, you laid yourself out and he took what he wanted, what you both wanted. You felt whole now, felt like you could conquer the world, or maybe just not cave to Lydia.

You know he is as awake as you are, can feel him try to go back to sleep, but you press back into him, wanting to feel more warmth, wanting to feel him against your skin.

His arm tightens and you turn, you look at him, his eyes still closed but his face set in his normal stubborn mask.

You move to kiss him, lay your lips light against his cheek and nose and chin, you move to his lips, just a second away before he's pushing you back at arms length.

His eyes open and staring at the pillow under your head, his jaw working and set, grinding his teeth loud enough for you to hear.

'No.'

Its one word while you stare at him, stare at his eyes set on his pillows, his jaw shut once again.

You can only stare at him as your eyes open wider in shock, the pain in your chest heavy and sharp, sliding through your throat, like he used to promise; he tears through you, his teeth, replaced with his words, your throat just a poor bystander to the ripping of your heart.

You can only nod as tears spill, as his hands tighten enough on your arms to have you whimper.

It shocks him enough to look at you with wide eyes, to see your pain that you are sure is etched on your face, see the shock and the tendons pulled tight in your neck as you try to hold in the scream and groan and whimper and everything else that wants to come out.

He moves to lay his hand on you, the hands that have left bruises on you thighs and hips; the hands that he had just ripped back to himself at you whimper of pain.

You're moving though, sliding out of sheets and into you clothes as you drag your bag from under his bed, as you cram your things into it. As you throw your life as you knew it back together.

You're at the door and pulling your things out by the time he is scrambling to get out of his sheets. Trying to do something but your not to sure what and you really don't care.

No, you just shove your things into your jeep, having said goodbye to your dad over breakfast yesterday, so it's just a shove of your key into the ignition and turning the engine over and you're in reverse.

You don't even have a shirt; you can only register the pin pricks of your tears hit your skin. You can hear something as you push into drive, the sound of feet pounding on wood floors.

Your at the tree line before you hear Lydia or Allison call your name, hear Jackson wail your name, hear Scott shocking it out in a nervous scream, hear Danny yelling through tears; but never him, no, never him, even if he's right next to them, trying to run after you, but your gone.

It's easier to leave them like this, you wouldn't imagine how else you would have done it anyways, and the result of you leaving would have been the same if you had left at night when they slept or never returned from buying something.

They would have cried, would have been just as scared as they are now, but it had to be dome, better like a Band-Aid then a burn.

You try to breathe, try to see through the tears as you drive through the winding roads, as the air is still just cool enough to chill you but that's just background noise. You try to block out your cubs screams, the crying, try to block out him not being they're when you needed it.

You can only savor what you got, you can only remember their laughs and playing, their smiling faces, his warm hands and body, the words whispered into your ear, the bite throbbing at the junction of your neck and shoulder.

You just laugh now, you can only laugh now; that what an idiot you must have looked like, how much of an idiot you are, like he would stop just because of a visiting pack.

Would stop and accept what you were giving and make himself happy, make you happy; no, he wouldn't be himself if he did, would be the person you're so stupidly in love with, would be that one.

You laugh as you cry as you drive through the mountains, the air colder here.

You murmur to yourself.

'Stupid, pathetic, so fucking stupid; so fucking fucked!'

And your laughing again, you can only yell out into the open air, as loud as you can; because you feel like you did the first time he pushed you away, like you're sixteen again.

You scream it at the top of your lungs, because its something you would have done when you were that young.

'YOLO'

Its until your at the house four days later, that your room mate sees your face and is pulling into the house, pulling you into your room and leaving you for a moment.

She may not like it, may want to hold and coddle you, to try to help you from your vices, but she knows that she can't; she does what she can, something she will hate herself for tomorrow.

The bottle of vodka and jack in each hand as she sits behind you and you drink yourself into oblivion.

You should have seen it coming.

You are no one to him.

You can only hold onto the bottle a little tighter, that's all the warmth you have now.


End file.
